


constantly on the brink

by elsewherewolf



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsewherewolf/pseuds/elsewherewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's fascinated with the arc reactor, and Tony's just relieved the waiting is over.  </p><p>(Sorry about the title... brain wouldn't provide anything better.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	constantly on the brink

Steve's got a sweetness to him that Tony's afraid he'll taint, somehow. It's what surprises him so much about this still, even now, three months into this... thing, whatever it is. Relationship, he wants to call it but at the same time doesn't because it's more like a slowly opening bud that he has to coax and nurture every single day and it's sad how very not used to that he is.

But hey, he's trying. And that's what counts.

Maybe it's so difficult because underneath that sweetness is a hardness, too. Seventy years of the world moving relentlessly on without you can make or break a man, and Steve got tough and got wise and now when he shows up, everyone knows who's in charge. It still messes with Tony's head, that part of it. 

He looks up, a second before Steve comes in the room, post-workout sweat and a low-level aggression that's coming Tony's way.

"Where is everyone?"

Tony looks back down at the parts spread across his workbench, and shrugs. "I'd ask the babysitter but he's not here either." He gives Steve a sly, sideways grin. "Why? Wanna make out?"

There's a faint flush to Steve's skin that wasn't there before, and he gives Tony a disapproving look, though he's smiling enough that Tony just says "try that once more with feeling."

"Can we, uh, can we go somewhere more private?"

Tony drags his gaze away from the dog tags resting against Steve's... well, just say the word, _perfect_ chest, and nods. 

"Dummy, don't touch a thing, Jarvis make sure he doesn't touch anything, I'll be back in- I'll be back later."

He doesn't take Steve's hand, but lets him lead the way because that's just how this works. He follows wherever Steve wants to go, because something about him is too important to push any issues. Issues like he's had a hard-on for about three months now and there doesn't seem to be any sign of reprieve.

Steve stops in the middle of Tony's bedroom and looks around, first at the view outside, then at Tony. "I should shower."

"Really? Why would you think that? No, I'm serious, you look totally fine from where I'm standing. Totally fine."

"Thanks, but-"

"Go on. I'll be here." _Waiting._

He sits on the bed, listening to Steve start the shower. Pulls off his t-shirt, trying not to look at _it_ , and concentrates on a small round bruise on his thigh instead, wondering where it came from. 

"Jarvis? Would you mind hitting the lights?"

Steve's voice is quiet, and Tony doesn't have time to look up before Jarvis obliges and the room is plunged into darkness. Darkness, except for the light emitted by the reactor in Tony's chest.

Steve steps into that soft glow, and Tony swallows. He doesn't know what it is about Steve that makes him so self-conscious about this thing that's keeping him alive - he'd show it to anyone else for a buck, seriously - but he can feel Steve's eyes on him and all he wants to do is pull his shirt back on and maybe it's his fault that this thing is moving as slow as it is. Maybe. He might believe that if he wasn't so constantly horny.

"Tony, don't."

"What?"

And Steve's stepping between his thighs and something in Tony's brain starts flashing red and he goes when he's pushed, not exactly carefully, back against the bed. 

"Don't be a cocktease," Tony blurts. "Not today."

"How about I promise not to be if you just shut up and let me do this?" Steve's words might be sure and heated, but he's not looking directly at Tony, so Tony can't get a read enough to reply. All he can do is lie there while Steve positions his arms, folds them beneath his head, thumb stroking the outer shell of his ear before his whole - huge - hand curves Tony's jaw. Fingertips through a beard that's gotten scruffy with too many days spent in the workshop avoiding meetings, and down to Tony's throat.

He swallows when the touch pauses there, feels fragile and that's kind of a crazy sensation for Iron Man to figure out. 

Then Steve's fingers ghost down to where the reactor sits in Tony's chest, and he watches Steve's eyes in the bright blue glow tracking every single movement he makes. Sees how they flicker when Tony swallows because there are still live nerves surrounding the circle of light and they sit oddly close to the surface and Steve's light touch is driving him _completely_ insane. And how they focus on the reactor itself, scrutinizing what can be seen of it on the surface. Steve still doesn't entirely understand how it works or why it's there, he's said that much already, but Tony knows that he wants to. Like there's some part of his still discovering the twenty first century self that almost wants to dig the thing out and take a real good look at it.

Tony's glad it's only an almost. He starts to move his arm, wants to take hold of Steve's hand and just place it anywhere else but there, but Steve stops him. Too strong to argue with, so Tony just says "okay, okay," and closes his eyes, blue spots dancing behind his eyelids.

Then Steve kisses him. Not on the mouth, hell no, that would be too easy, too obvious. Kisses his chest, mouth skirting the edge of the reactor. Steve hasn't kissed him there before and while it's a little weird to Tony that he even wants to, it's also kind of turning him on. Like, a lot. And he wants it to go on and on but Steve's kissing his armpit now and that's having the same effect and who is he anyway to tell Captain America where his lips should be?

Steve is a romantic, Tony's figured that much out. And while it might not exactly be his language, he's willing to learn. Although when he tries to actually _speak_ it, the words come out more like: 

"Hey, am I right and all you're wearing is a towel right now, Cap?"

"Shut up, Mister Stark." 

Tony grins in the arclit darkness then groans, his entire body arching off the bed when Steve kisses his skin just below the reactor at the same time as his hand closes firmly over the hard ridge in Tony's jeans.

"Oh, God."

Because there's also the cool, metallic sting of Steve's dogtags swinging into his ribs as Steve moves quickly to kiss his mouth - to shut him up, Tony assumes. He tries to talk even through the kiss, but when Steve's palm grinds down, when his fingers extend and curl in again and stroke like  
 _that_ ,  
there isn't really much that he can add to the conversation. That's what he decides. 

It's a first, and the best thing that Tony can do is roll with it. So when Steve pauses, lips loose on Tony's chin, he keeps... well, he keeps kind of still. For him. Lets Steve have that moment, however long it takes to reconcile what he's doing with how he feels and who he is. And Tony knows it's a lot because he went through the same deal in the beginning. Only he did it like he's done most things in life - headfirst, headstrong, no hesitation. So he found himself attracted to Steve Rogers - Captain America of all people. So what? It was what it was, is what it is, and he accepted it about ten seconds after realising it.

For Steve it's just taking a little - okay, a lot longer.

"You don't have to-" Tony starts to say, though it's half hearted at best and Steve's warm mouth stops him from continuing.

Steve shifts against him and Tony thinks, oh. Okay, yeah, sure. You do have to.

He feels Steve's fingers at his fly and gives a half nod of assent that he's not sure Steve's even waiting for, sighs relief as the pressure against his cock eases off.

"Sweet baby Jesus, thank you."

Which makes Steve laugh, a huff of hot breath below Tony's ear. "That's nothing."

"Mm, promises. What else you got, Cap?"

"Look at me."

Tony swallows at the tone, and opens his eyes, though the quiet blue light emanating from his chest is the first thing he notices and the last thing he wants to think about. It reminds him that he's constantly on the brink, and he kind of hates that, especially now.

Except that when Steve touches his chest again, and there are shadows cast between them of Steve's fingers through the reactor's light, he feels something else entirely. He grunts when Steve moves to settle his hips in over Tony's, remembers to look into Steve's eyes the way he was asked, gives Steve more than he's truly comfortable with giving, then the shuttering of his gaze when Steve pulls away his towel and lowers himself, his whole hand over the reactor leaving everything dark and coated in shadow, and then it's skin to skin, cock to cock and Tony's forgotten how to function.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmurs by his ear, and Tony feels about a thousand different things at once - Steve's cock, thick and warm pressure, the tips of Steve's fingers spread out around the reactor, Steve's breath, the way Steve's skin feels when it's still drying from the shower in those places only just exposed to air, the tickle of Steve's tags where they're dangling against the inside of his arm - but one thing he doesn't feel is sorry. He focuses, or tries to, and lifts his leg to wrap it over Steve's hip, and makes a sound that's enough like asking 'what for?' that Steve gets it.

"I should've done this weeks ago, is all. I wanted- This might sound-"

"It doesn't. And you're right, maybe, but you are who you are and I, I regret to say I am who I am, and. Yeah."

Because with Steve it's not - as it has been with so many others - a passing phase. Tony's held out for three months and that's longer than he's waited for anyone, ever, period. 

"Listen, I love that I can help you process this but I'm done talking if you're done talking and this? This feels good, so keep-"

Tony's words dissolve into a low half growl, appreciative and blunt, and Steve answers by rocking his hips again, and Tony helps him out with that, pulls himself up with the leg over Steve's hip and the pressure, the heat, the hand on his chest, the brush of Steve's tags - every single thing is driving him out of his mind with a crazy, persistent ache.

And when Steve reaches between them and drags the slick from their leaking cocks down, Tony's so gone that he literally can't think of a single thing to say. At least, he's pretty sure the sound that comes out of his throat isn't in any dictionary. It should be, he thinks. Under 'hottest things ever', next to a picture of Steve wearing nothing but a towel and his tags. 

Is it his imagination or is the light beyond his closed eyelids getting brighter?

Some kind of chemical, electrical, Tony can't think of any more descriptives, but it's something that starts where the reactor lies beneath Steve's hand and surges outward. He pulls Steve in tight against him, his leg wrapped hard around Steve's thigh, and shudders, surprised to find skin between his teeth and hair between his fingers.

He pushes his head back against the mattress and forces his eyes open to watch Steve, watch his jaw go slack and his eyes burn and there's the question and the answer right there in the shape his mouth makes and Tony just watches it all, listening to himself breathe. More intimate in the light from his chest, more sacred, more everything. He wonders if this is what the big L feels like, wonders why Steve and why now and remembers that he's resigned to it anyway so whatever, the rest doesn't matter. 

"Wow." Steve grins, eventually, and Tony grins back when he recalls how to use the muscles in his face. 

"Everything you dreamt of?" Tony asks, because he's back to being Tony Stark.

"More. Was it..."

"Believe me, it was." 

"Good." Steve looks genuinely relieved, which is actually kind of adorable, and Tony realises that he's still in some sort of full body cling mode and relaxes his grip, hoping Steve's too blissed out to even notice.

"So, thanks."

"For what?" Steve's on the move again, rolling over, pulling Tony with him, back against him and Tony should maybe be pissed off at being manouevred out of that really nice... afterglow area, except that Steve's comfy and still idly stroking the ugly, twisted skin around the thing in Tony's chest.

"Keeping your promise," Tony says.

It takes Steve a few moments, but he remembers, and Tony's rewarded with the press of a grin and some tongue to his shoulder. Held in place with both of Steve's arms, a damn vice that there is absolutely no way out of.

"I'm not going back to the lab tonight, am I?"

"You got it, Mister Stark."


End file.
